


Parallels

by hellcsweetie



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: 3x06, 8x16, Character Study, F/M, Pre-Canon, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:42:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25372573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellcsweetie/pseuds/hellcsweetie
Summary: The parallels between the first time Donna and Harvey have sex, and the next time.
Relationships: Donna Paulsen/Harvey Specter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	Parallels

**Author's Note:**

> (Slightly belated) Happy one-year anniversary to the first time Donna and Harvey slept together after The Other Time :)

It’s relief. 

Donna is no stranger to being the object of the male gaze. She’s turned down enough advances to know how it feels to be wanted, desired. And she’s been involved in the chase enough to know the thrill of the back and forth, the innuendos, the suggestions. 

But Harvey is relentless. He seems more determined each time she shoots him down, finds new ways to try to make her squirm or blush. No other guy has ever asked her out more than him, though she does suspect a good part of it is done as a joke. 

His gaze burns holes through her clothes and his lips don’t bother hiding his malice when he smirks down at her, perched on her desk at night, after everyone is gone. She knows he is trouble and she is unwavering in her rule, but Harvey is especially difficult to refuse. The more she has to, the more she knows she needs to. 

But everyone knew they would do it eventually. Donna may like to think she can be irreducible when she wants to, but even she knew someday, somehow, there would be a loophole or a waiver or a renegotiation and her rule wouldn’t apply to Harvey Specter.

This was inevitable but when it finally happens it’s a relief because it’s been months of flirting, of wondering what he tastes like, of imagining his body on hers. She never truly fantasized, but she did wonder. 

And now she doesn’t have to wonder anymore, as he leans in to capture her lips intently and slides the door shut. She doesn’t have to wonder what he tastes like (spearmint bubblegum with a faint background of whisky, possibly to calm his nerves), and she doesn’t have to imagine his body on hers (it’s solid and heavy and warm).

She also learns that he likes her on top, that her white cabinet has a very convenient height, that the stickiness of the remains of whipped cream on her breast will annoy her until he licks it off, that his bedroom voice is nothing like his DA’s office voice, even the DA’s office voice he saves just for her. 

And in the midst of all the things she anticipated and all the things she never could have, she finds relief. 

Relief at finally being able to moan his name, relief at feeling her body trembling under his ministrations, relief at the sweat and the touches and his teeth scraping her skin. 

She’s not a sexually frustrated person, not by a long shot, but the amount of relief she feels this night almost makes her believe she might have been. She was relieved from the second she saw him standing at her door, to the second she sucked his tongue into her mouth. She was relieved when his hands roamed her body and lifted her camisole along with them, when they gasped together as he filled her, and at the way they laughed and played along the way. 

She’s also relieved to know her extensive knowledge of him also applies here. It may be the first time they do this but it doesn’t show. She knows his tells and what makes him tick and so it doesn’t take much to have him groaning her name, his fingers tangled tight in her hair as her lips glide up and down his shaft. 

It’s not awkward, it’s not tentative, it’s not complicated. They slide into this new intimacy much like they slid into their original one, quickly and seamlessly. 

It doesn't just feel like they've done this before, it feels like they could do this again. It's dangerous, because it almost feels like she wants to do this again, and she doesn't think that fits into who they are and what they're supposed to be.

Still, she had been waiting for this night, partly dreading it, partly looking forward to it, from the moment she realized there would be no escaping this. Almost two years of repressing thoughts and feelings she didn't want to have because she knew they meant trouble.

But now the wondering and the fending off and the constant burden of convincing herself she’s doing the right thing by keeping her rule disappear, as they rock together and mold their bodies to each other in a night suspended in time. 

It’s relief and it’s ecstasy, and it’s anticipation. And then, a few days later, it’s disappointment. 

*

It’s relief. 

His shoulders slumping, his breath leaving his body, the way his eyes look like he’s been sprinting to catch the closing window still open and can’t tell if he did.

Everything that wasn’t clear before, everything he thought she knew when she didn’t, everything she’d previously needed to hear as reassurance, it’s all replaced by this single look in his eye. 

And when she retreats into her condo and he takes the first step forward, it’s relief that crashes into her and holds her by the waist. It’s relief that she pants into his ear, relief that cradles her between his fingers, relief that warms her chest as the heat in her core is accompanied by the heat of him. 

It’s been fifteen years. She feels every last one of them in her bones, even as he rewrites her molecules and brands them with his touch.

It’s been pain and heartache and frustration - it’s hard to remember them right now, it’s hard to remember anything other than this, but this has been the exception, not the rule. 

It’s been her self-worth tied to his opinion of her, because as much as she loves herself, she can’t love herself enough for both of them. And no matter how much she tried to convince herself that she didn’t need his approval, his validation, she knows now that this right here is something only he could make her feel. 

It’s been over a decade of running and wondering and wanting with a fervor unmatched by anything and anyone else. It’s been sleepless nights and wet dreams and all the feelings one can stuff between those two, and it’s been her thinking it would never be her.

So it’s complete, utter, staggering relief.

A relief that washes over her like a wave, covering her from head to toe. It’s a relief half smothered by urgency, by desperation to feel him everywhere, a relief that coexists with the fear of never being able to have enough of him. 

At first her relief isn’t peaceful, it isn’t comfort. Her relief is raging fire burning in her veins, it’s her fingers pressing into his back and her tongue rough against his neck. She’s relieved at how much she still wants him, and how much she can feel he wants her too.

It starts fast and hot; it’s still tender and loving because it’s them, and they’re tender, and they love. But it’s fuelled by a lust she barely recognizes, a desire to be consumed by him until they’re truly one. 

And then later they slow down, shift gears and she almost cries, more than once, at the new wave of relief. The softer he is, the more her relief suffocates her, brings tears to her eyes. 

Because she’s relieved that her thirst is being quenched. It’s good and liberating to watch him worship her body, to watch his eyes fall closed when she rolls her hips expertly, to hear the helpless little moan he lets escape right before he comes. 

But she realizes it’s the love that brings her the most relief. It’s the care with which he brushes her hair away from her eyes as they move together, with which his palms stroke her skin gently even as she’s telling him to go harder and he’s complying. It’s the way he brings her water sheepishly once she steps out of the bathroom afterwards. 

It’s in the fact that he stays. 

This relief is old, it’s the relief she felt that night, the relief of bodies meeting in the way they were always supposed to meet. But it’s also new and unknown and irreplaceable. 

It’s relief of the arrival, of the glimpse into forever, of feeling his fingers reaching for hers when he’s almost asleep and knowing what it means.

* * *

It’s losing. 

Harvey Specter doesn’t usually have to chase women, they tend to come to him. And when he does chase one, she is always a sure thing. 

Except for Donna. 

He knows she’s attracted to him, and he knows his antics get to her. She’s an amazing actress, because almost no one would be able to tell. But he can, because as well as she knows him, he knows her right back too. He sees her breath change pace subtly, or the faint heat that rises to her cheeks. 

Still, this whole endeavor starts feeling like losing. She doesn’t cave, and he pulls every trick on the book and it still isn’t enough. To top it off, their relationship at the DA’s ends in a fight over Cameron’s nasty habit and when he quits he thinks that’s it. He lost. 

Except he shows up at her door and she’s letting him in and letting him kiss her and touch her and suddenly it’s a whole different kind of losing. 

He loses his façade, the suave, smooth ladies’ man. He’s not exactly nervous, but he feels shaken by her. He finds he cares about what’s happening, if she’s enjoying it. He puts in an effort, and that’s proof that he’s not being his usual self. 

After that, he starts losing things left and right. He loses a sock, and his footing, and track of time. They’re going through the motions but they’re not just going through the motions, they’re doing something. Something momentous. 

Donna is in bed like she is everywhere else; feisty and playful and insightful. Incredibly talented. Attentive yet carefree. And as they dive further into each other, he notices he starts trying harder. He wants to make this the best night of her life, even if he doesn’t know exactly why. 

This is when he realizes he’s losing the bet he made with himself, and partially with her. He’s losing the bet he made with himself that she would fall for him first, because she seems casual and chill and he feels more and more like a teenager with a crush. 

He doesn’t think it’s falling, exactly, but it’s definitely not nothing, and it’s definitely not the upper hand he’d thought he’d have. He was certain he would waltz in here to have a good time and that’s it. Now he’s already wondering if he can find a way to convince her to keep this arrangement going. Because the night isn’t even over yet and he already knows he wants to see her again.

He’s enjoying himself more than he thought he would. They fit together differently, there’s a level of familiarity he wasn’t expecting - and wasn’t expecting to enjoy. He’s had girlfriends and there’s always Scottie but Donna knows him in a different way.

Donna knows him on instinct. It’s like she just understands where to place her hands, how to move her hips, what to whisper in his ear. He doesn’t have to say anything, or redirect her legs or kiss her to shut her up.

And afterwards, when they’re lying next to each other catching their breath, they chat. He normally doesn’t like pillow talk, but pillow talk with Donna is just like work talk with Donna or late night drinks talk with Donna, except now they’re both naked and waiting for the second round. It’s easy and light and he laughs. 

He realizes he lost something else, something important. He didn’t notice he was losing it, and maybe he hasn’t totally lost it, just waived it just this once. But it’s nowhere to be found. Lying here with Donna, playing with the hairs on her arm, he realizes he lost his usual notion of what sex is supposed to be.

It used to be almost like a race, a series of steps to reach a destination. Touch here, lick there, get them warm and ready and then it’s the usual back and forth until they both come. Harvey likes the process, has always enjoyed looking for new ways to turn them on, but this felt different. 

This felt like them both building something together, like her taking and him giving. He lost his usual hurry, lost his discomfort with intimacy, almost lost his staple desire to go home afterwards. And he doesn’t know if this is something he wants, something he can have, something he should pursue. Maybe he lost his ability to think straight too.

It’s losing, and he’s still too used to winning to truly understand the value in that.

*

It’s losing.

He spent the entire week losing. The deal, the client, his confidence, almost his license and his firm with it. Through the mergers and restructurings, Mike's arrest, name changes and general hurdles that littered his professional life so far, he had never come so close to losing everything he has ever cared about.

He thought he'd lost her, too. He saw the way her thing with Thomas was different, how just a tiny bit more breathing space from him allowed a healthy, meaningful relationship to bloom effortlessly. He had never seen Donna this protective, this invested. He was sure he'd lost her.

And then he won, even though Robert lost his license. Even though she wasn't there. He won and it felt exactly nothing like he thought it would because he didn't win back what he really wanted. And as he had more and more suddenly meaningful conversations with the people around him, he lost his final excuse.

So he ran here and watching her bury herself in the shadows of her apartment and smirk at him and just understand him, all of that made him lose the weight that had been sitting on his shoulders, possibly for all of the last decade. He deflates at that, because years of denial are heavy, and they leave you bloated and stiff. 

He's not denying anything anymore. He's letting her read him, he's letting her shed light onto every last corner of his soul, and he's taking what she's giving him. They both know what this is, what this means, and being on the same page as Donna has always felt comforting but this is a completely new experience.

With each new touch of her lips on his, each time her hand slides through his hair he feels himself losing the gripping fear that has accompanied him all this time. He can physically feel the fear untangling itself from his veins and his limbs and leaving him. He is all trust tonight.

He thought it would take a huge conversation and him putting himself out there and laying it all out on the line and yet their bodies are welding together and he can feel her heart beating under his palm and it didn't take a single word.

He always thought trying something with Donna held too much risk but now he feels like he has never done anything easier. Nothing has ever felt as simple and as natural as his skin against her skin, no other care in the world, no other thought in his head.

He is not afraid anymore, and for a realization this big, it's a mystery how it almost went by unnoticed. He was afraid, and then he wasn't. Like a switch. It had never felt easy and simple - it hadn't even felt achievable, conceivable - and now it feels certain.

Their fingers tangle together and it almost feels more intimate than him between her legs. She pulls away from him and gives him this look, this expression that says "You finally get it. Good. Welcome." And she walks them to her bedroom.

He loses his clothes and his excuses and his convoluted explanations that had long started to feel like chains. He has never been blind to the potential of them together professionally; it was why he agreed to have her on his desk, why he demanded Jessica hire her, why he was never good at letting her go.

But he had made up this whole story in his head to ignore the potential of them together everywhere else.

Each passing year - sometimes, each passing day - the story became more complicated and less credible and more like the biggest load of bullshit he had ever told anyone, let alone himself. The rationalization became completely irrational, the statements became void, the clarity became so dense he couldn't see what was right in front of him.

He loses himself inside of her, letting all of it go, letting the past fifteen years take on a new shape, a new meaning. He's not holding back anymore and they can both feel it. He holds her like he has never held anyone else, he buries himself deep like he's coming home, he drinks in her moans and her sighs and he collects them in his memory.

He could have lost everything mere hours ago and instead he's here, with the one person he has always wanted, the only thing he has ever needed. He takes in the trust he sees in her eyes, he takes in the love he senses wrapping them closer together until there is no space between them, he takes in the softness of her touch and the color of her hair and the feeling of sharing her pillow. Tonight he wins, but it's not just winning.

It’s losing himself in this, in them, and finding everything.


End file.
